


Master Q and Trofo’s Wild Near-Death Experience

by lesbomancy



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, Jedi, The Eternal Empire (Star Wars), Zakuul (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5109155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbomancy/pseuds/lesbomancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Master  Qardrin and his padawan Trofim Manin engage in a combat operation to stop a patrolling Zakuulan command ship in the Core Worlds. Not all goes as planned, however, and the Jedi force has to split up to try and stop the vessel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Master Q and Trofo’s Wild Near-Death Experience

The dropship rattled with every near-miss, metal and paint shearing off from debris that peppered the air. A younger padawan flew from their seat, nearly face planting before an older ongree Jedi caught them in both of his arms. The ongree lifted the padawan to their seat and buckled them in, giving them a look before sitting back down and giving a look of minor disappointment to the padawan who should have known to buckle their seatbelt.

“S-sorry, Master Qardrin,” the young padawan offered.

“Remember your breathing. Focus your mind but keep it open to all threats,” the ongree returned. “… especially a lack of seatbelts.”

Jedi of varying ages and skill levels surrounded him. Most of them were deathly afraid, some of the other ones so shaken that he could sense their every emotion like a wild animal. There was little to do but offer them words of tranquility before the dropship landed at their target - a Zakuul command ship. The hit-and-run tactics of the Eternal Empire were even more dastardly in that the Zakuul thought they fought for ‘justice.’ Master Qardrin knew the manipulation of such a word resulted in far too many crusades and wars - this was just another to add to the ever increasing pile. While he was not a man to advocate for war he knew the active defense of others was as much of a necessity to Jedi as knowledge or compassion. He taught this for years - a view that may had cost him any chance at being on the Jedi Council aside others more extremist in both pacifism and combat.

Glory was never his objective, only peace and knowledge. Perhaps child rearing on the occasion that he let his better senses fail and take upon a ‘hopeless’ apprentice. One such hopeless case was next to him. Trofim Manin, cathar gambler and professional couch crasher. Gone were the slick coats and ill gotten gains - the cathar was now dressed as any other Jedi in a humbling, unflattering brown robe which knocked anyone who thought they looked good in clothes down a few dozen pegs. Trofim was a son to Qardrin, a fact he would readily admit to anyone who asked mostly out of pride but also defensively - not all Jedi newcomers were prophetic heralds of a new dawn.

It didn’t help that Qardrin’s past apprentices all had a grand, spectacular fate which usually resulted in saving lives or overthrowing a heinous plot. Trofim was… Trofim. A smiling goofball who would sooner hide behind a dumpster than fight the Eternal Empire. He ran from Master Qardrin during his first attempt at training and stole a lightsaber which was almost as old as the Jedi Order itself. They kept in contact during  the lull as much as any loving father figure and rebellious teen would.. although the rising tide of the Sith Emperor’s evils pulled them together once more. Their reunion was brief, Trofim’s training cut short when Qardrin was taken by an Imperial Moff and a Sith Lord. Those who doubted Trofim’s fate as a Jedi were silenced when he raced to his master’s rescue with the help of allies, eventually destroying the Sith and the Moff’s flagship in one fell swoop, rescuing Qardrin all the while. The next year together was a true stage of growth for the pair; they traveled, trained and healed the galaxy all the best they could. What few arguments they did have were usually stifled simply because of their bond - Qardrin never let Trofim forget how much of a hero he was. Even as Zakuul invaded and fear crept it’s way into the collective galactic consciousness.

Now they sat, nearly wetting themselves as the dropship they were inside dodged and weaved between explosive turbolaser charges. By the time that the dropship angled to enter the hangar bay they had lost most of their escort and were only on one engine - yet Master Qardrin’s cool head and force of will kept the cabin calm, even as the metal cut into the hangar’s floor and they skidded through several parked Zakuul ships. Once at a complete stop he made sure everyone was doing well - he helped a few from their seats and organized the preparation. Outside of the dropship nearly two dozen skytroopers were armed and ready for the Jedi.

“I can feel them. Twenty-two of their droids,” another Jedi said.

“No match for a Jedi,” the seatbelt-phobic padawan returned.

“No,” Qardrin interrupted. “But we must all be at our best. Deflective stances.”

A murmur of affirmations went out as the group prepared themselves, one after another each lightsaber igniting and their respective owners spacing themselves out appropriately. When Master Qardrin hit the emergency door release a hail of blaster bolts opened up with the mindless precision of a droid operator. The group held their ground, deflecting each bolt as Qardrin and several other masters advanced out of the vessel. They made short work of the skytroopers, especially with their trusty younger Jedi reflecting every other bolt back at the droid which fired it. The group of Jedi made their way forward and stopped just before the corridor to the Zakuul ship itself split into the labyrinthine maze of access hatches, elevators and halls.

Master Qardrin looked to the other masters within the group, “Nothing is nearby but that is likely to change. One large group draws much attention, it would be harder to stop us if we went in different directions.”

“What are you proposing?” an agitated mirialan grumbled.

“I believe Master Qardrin wishes to split up. Seek objectives of equal worth and outcome such as their propulsion systems, life support and the bridge itself?” another Master asked.

“Indeed, Master Otai. You are the fastest among us.. perhaps you would volunteer to take the lengthy trip to the engines?” Qardrin smiled.

“If Master Piun offers her expertise to handling the life support I believe your natural instinct would find the bridge an easy target.” Otai turned to face the agitated mirialan.

“I guess I will! No better way to die than with the calmest Jedi on the eve of their death. Padawans, let’s go!” the mirialan huffed and stomped off down one hallway towards a lift.

“I don’t believe she studied the schematics,” Otai said.

“Her discomfort at war will guide her to swift achievement of her objective, Master Otai.”

“Perhaps so… at least there are few organics in this vessel. We may achieve victory without bloodshed.”

Master Qardrin frowned at the thought. No Jedi saw a certain future as the future itself was an elusive, ever changing thing. ‘victory’ and ‘defeat’ were just vague enough to be in a prophecy and yet there was nothing about the Zakuul. Nothing of this war. It was an unforeseen factor. Random. Random always brought blood somehow, usually at the expense of the innocent people.

“Perhaps. Do stay safe, Master Otai.”

“So long as you remember where the escape pods are we will share a victorious hurrah on the planet!”

Otai walked off in another direction towards maintenance hatches and narrow hallways. All that was left was the path to the bridge.

Qardrin turned to face Trofim, “Are you ready?”

Trofim shook his head, “No.”

“Breathe, padawan. Feel”

Trofim closed his eyes, doing as instructed. Despite not being the strongest Jedi ever he sure knew how to do what he was guided to. The walls and levels of the ship were a mass of gray around him and he could swear the walls themselves stretched with how much more room he felt he had. When he opened his eyes he saw nothing different than when he first arrived but he felt something different; as if his consciousness was attached to the air and it slipped through the cracks all around him.

“Better,’ Trofim said with a smile.

“Excellent, we must hurry. If we do not disrupt these warmongers now then we may never secure the sector.”

Qardrin turned, loosing his robes from his body. Underneath were simple beige clothes, a tunic and trousers. Trofim knew that this meant Master Qardrin was ready for a fight - he only did this when he was going to kick butt. They made their way through a maze of corridors and access hatches, sticking to corners and underneath walkway grating when needing to avoid detection from organic crew members, as few and far between as they were. Qardin eventually guided them to a maintenance area, complete with localized computers. Security computers.

“Trofim?” he asked. “Would you mind?” His ongree claws clacked on the metal, bringing attention to it.

Trofim’s eyes lit up and he lifted his hands, wiggling his fingers. “Don’t mind if I do, Master Q!”

Chuckling, Qardrin stood behind Trofim and watched the cathar do his damage. He tore down passworded areas, typing a hurricane and proving that Zakuul cyber security needed a little beefing up. Camera feeds to skytroopers went blank and an entire platoon of them were offline within four minutes, all without a hint of detection. The door beside them clicked open in a keystroke and Qardrin patted Trofim on the shoulder.

“Can you see where the others are?”

“Duhh!” Trofim responded. “I mean, I can try.”

He went to work again, going through video feeds on pure instinct and guidance by the force. Try as he might he couldn’t find Otai at all but Master Piun appeared, hacking her way past skytroopers with her padawans in tow. She was just as grumpy as before, especially since one of her padawans looked like they got hit in the face pretty hard.

“I can’t find Master Otai,” Trofim admitted.

“He is a master of stealth, Trofim. I do not think he will smile for Zakuul security.”

Trofim half-pouted, scrunching his lips up at a weird angle. “I unlocked the door. The bridge has all the major controls that I’m locked out from here.”

“And you have your spikes, correct?”

“Duh,” he patted a bulky fanny pack on the side of his body underneath his robe. “Never leave home without them!”

Qardrin gave Trofim another pat, standing back. “Let us go stop this starship, then.”

 

They moved through the doorways of the access corridor until they came to a ladder which lead them up into what seemed to be a locked closet on the bridge stuffed with cleaning supplies. Smushed together in the closet, Trofim awkwardly began to pick the lock. With a satisfying metallic sound the door flung open and they were exposed to the shadow of the bridge’s lighting. Thankfully they were off in a corner, out of sight and mind. Qardrin crouched down behind some consoles, gesturing for Trofim to do the same. They kept small and looked over the layout, vastly different than any Imperial or Republic warship. In fact, it was completely alien in concept as only a few people on the bridge itself were there while the majority of it was operated through computers.

Trofim clearly figured this out, his pointed cathar fangs all but gleaming as he eyed several computers. Each of them had to control a vital system at the very least.

The few organics who were on the bridge were crowded around some sort of command pod, a circular area with a large seat in the middle which overlooked screens with information on the entire ship. Despite the loud hums of computers, both Qardrin and Trofim were able to extend their normal senses through the Force, hearing the commotion on the command pod.

“-... the foreigners are nearing the engines and life support systems. I’ve deployed all of our skytroopers in response!”

“Knights Forl and Tihg are en route to the life support, as well!”

“There were no bodies in the hangar, it looks as if they are all going for vital systems. No life signs detected anywhere except the bridge and those two locations.”

The middle chair pivoted to face the working crewpeople. They were a Zakuul knight, clad in golden armor with their helmet off. From what the two Jedi could tell, she was a middle-aged woman with pale skin and dark hair. They had bags under their eyes and were busy micromanaging the ship’s functions on their own display.

“Flush them into space, the Exarch’s ship will be here soon. If we are still distracted by then, then she will take this vessel as her own.” she ordered in a bored tone of voice.

“Yes, my lady!”

“Of coures, my lady!”

Trofim bristled and Master Qardrin leaned close, whispering.

“I will stop her. Can you slice into the main console and warn the others?”

Trofim nodded. Damn right he could! Trofim Manin, master Jedi and badass! Oh, wait.. he wasn’t either of those. Master Q was the badass! “O-okay,” he whispered.

“Good. I shall draw them away for you. Be aware of your surroundings, Trofim.”

Qardrin stepped out from behind cover and approached the command pod. They paid him no mind until he was essentially standing in front of them and he cleared his throat, “Hello there.”

Two of the crewmen were about to stand before Qardrin flung his hand at them. They pulled out of their seats and rammed face-first into each other, grunting loudly before flopping limp at the floor before him. The last crewman pulled his side-arm and when Qardrin pulled it out of the crewman’s hand he looked baffled. Qardrin flung it back at the crewman, the handle landing dead center in his forehead. He groaned before Qardrin pushed him back against the console, his body flopping between the console and his chair so that his boots sat up near his unconscious face.

The command chair swiveled around, the woman atop it now in her helmet and armed with her Zakuul saberspear. She jumped off of her perch to face Qardrin and being a head and a half taller than the ongree she didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest.

“Submit,” she snarled, igniting her spear. “... or I will render judgement.”

“Who are you to judge?” Qardrin asked.

“Kyna. Knight of Zakuul, commander of this vessel which you taint with criminal acts of subversion.”

“Then I suppose you will not surrender?”

“No. Will you?”

Qardrin took out his saber, igniting it. “No.”

“Then may your friends remember you fondly, outlander.”

The ongree backed away, his saber held up defensively, the purple glow illuminating his features. Kyna advanced almost instantaneously, her saber spear tip clanging off of Qardrin’s blade. Feigning weakness he retreated further and began striking back in the work pits among the automated computers, their weapons meeting in earnest. Qardrin could sense her conviction and drive in her mind and body, the woman’s raw strength was nearly overwhelming him. He knew how to fight a larger opponent, however, and one well-placed force blast put her off balance enough so he could press the advantage. Fast, quick strikes which had Kyna surprised. This outlander had strength.

Trofim ran haphazardly to the command chair, stepping over unconscious bodies while muttering his ‘excuse mes’ and ‘pardon mes’ until his butt was snugly in a chair four times his size. As he sank into the plush cushion he inserted a few data spikes, going to work as hard as he could. When he found the intercoms he thought to scream into them.. but then he remembered qa command he just learned not too long ago. Converting text-to-speech wasn’t the most normal thing for a vessel like this but the commands were clear and the intercom system had the tech. He grinned wildly as he typed away, leaving an oddly non-authoritative message to play out in a mechanical, Zakuul accented voice which would be best described as having a stick up it’s ass. Good. They know it’s a trap - and as he watched the monitors on the command chair he saw them turn towards the escape pods.. maybe they’d avoid seeing an Exarch altogether. That’d be.. good!

Kyna’s saberspear lodged itself into a computer Qardrin was standing upon, sparks and flames sputtering out as he jumped away. When he landed he found Kyna attempting to land on him with her spear pointed at his torso. He jumped again and again and again until he was wet with sweat and panting. Kyna was equally as tired but it nearly didn’t show, her drive to hunt the ongree so purposeful that she ignored her own body, put it aside with a Jedi’s force of will. She clanged her spear against his, using the haft to whack Qardrin in the head as she brought it around. Disoriented, he almost was cut in half but he brought his saber up at the last second to watch it spiral out of his hand. Two quick, strong force blasts gave them space enough so he could retrieve his lightsaber, now pressing the attack as he assumed a high stance, driving Kyna back.

Blinking lights were fun. Trofim barely wanted to know what this place looked like, let alone what it’s blinking lights did. The alert took up each screen and they didn’t disappear after he spiked them either.. this was something important, apparently and when each screen showed a Zakuul Exarch’s face looking pissed he nearly screaming, his body jumping out of the cushion with wide eyes. The Exarch began screaming and as soon as Trofim got out of the seat, skytrooper pods rammed into the command ship. He waved his arms wildly as he ran over to the escape pods, hoping to silently get Qardrin’s attention.

Qardrin lost his footing as the skytrooper pods made impact, his assault on Kyna cut short as she rolled away and re-planted her feet. In the distance was a tiny Trofim waving his arms like a bright neon sign that sad ‘we’re gonna die let's go dad’ and Qardrin was not one to argue as skytroopers began pouring out across all decks. He could sense it as Master Otai and Piun got further away; they were the only two left and that DEFINITELY meant it was time to go! He jumped and flipped behind Kyna, striking at her a few times to put her back on the defensive, dodging her strong downward strokes as she got clumsier and heavier with her swings.

As Qardrin made his way towards the pod, Trofim sliced the door open and started getting it booted up. The computers in the ship itself started to readjust under AI control, meaning he had to be pretty dang good at what he did to fight it off.. plus they needed a plan to not get vaporized the moment they launched and Trofim had JUST the idea. Slicing into the system he slowly began snatching up access to every other unlaunched escape pod and while fighting off the aggressive anti-hacking behavior routines of the ship’s defense systems he managed to link every pod together - when one launches, they all launch!

Trofim clapped his hands together in success, not feeling the sting of Kyna’s backhand until he was sprawled out in one of the pod’s chairs. His double vision stayed for a bit but he could tell that Qardrin was on the ground and not moving, his heart sinking and a million thoughts going through his head, none of which were positive at all. Struggling to get up, Kyna kicked him back onto the floor, her foot holding down his waist as she readied her saberspear to thrust it into Trofim’s neck. She moved it slowly towards the cathar’s flesh until she hit a snag. Struggling to free it from this snag she looked back - Master Qardrin!

He stood, pulling with all of his might and strength that he could until the spear stopped moving and he was literally dragging Kyna across the floor on her boots. She snarled and kept pulling herself to no avail, eventually letting go so that the spear landed in Qardrin’s hands only moments before she hit him in the face with her gauntlet. Qardrin was as disoriented as Trofim and the two Jedi had the mental wherewithal of a pair of people who just woke up. With Trofim in the floor, Master Qardrin flung a medical kit on the floor to the pod’s launch button, initiating a countdown as the lights dimmed.

Waggling his arms until he stood, Trofim got up and screamed at the launch. He made a face at his master as Kyna lowered herself and began to pummel the ongree without signs of stopping, each impact from her fists making a wet sound now. Confused, hurt, and scared Trofim went to stop the countdown.. but he was out of spikes. The system was fighting itself and there was less than twenty seconds until the launch. He struggled to get out of the pod, grabbing his lightsaber before tripping over his own feet, noticing the giant gash on his forehead from when he fell only when the blood was on his hands. He felt Master Qardrin calling out to him with the force, telling him it would be okay.

It pissed him off. Trofim got up to his knees, “No, no, no! Not like this!” he shrieked, holding his hands out. He clenched them into balled fists and pulled them to his chest. Master Qardrin flew out of Kyna’s hands and into the escape pod so fast that it bowled Trofim over. The pod shut, twisted and launched with Kyna’s face scowling down the tube at them. The two men rolled around as the pod launched, being flung from wall to wall as they and every other escape pod jettisoned from the Zakuul command ship. When the pod finally settled both Trofim and Qadrin were bloodied and battered, panting from exhaustion.

Trofim poked Qardrin as hard as he could, “Stop doing that sacrifice stuff!”

“It is the core of being a Jedi,” Qardrin laughed. “This war.. is going to be long.”

Qardrin fished out the medical kit he hurled to initiate the launch, pulling ice packs from them, offering one to Trofim.

“We’ll win, though… right?”

“I cannot say with a concussion, but I believe so,” he offered a comforting smile before looking out of the escape pod window at the massive fortress-like ship.

I pray so, he thought.


End file.
